Show Me How To Lie
by Youkai-ChoGonou
Summary: A mission goes awry, leaving Rick with little to no choice but to improvise like a true ODS agent. Billy!Whump.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This plot's a little farfetched. With lots of character whump. It'll be a little slow on the update. I have the next chapter done, but I may rewrite it so it's pending. I have this horrible habit of brutalizing characters I love. **

CHAOS

Show Me How To Lie

_"We are the ODS, last of the old-school spies."_

The young Rick Martinez was on his way to the ODS office with his morning coffee in one hand, an arm full of manila folders in the other. But as he rounded the corner, nearing his destination, the three members of his team brushed past him. Billy hooked an arm around him, dragging him in the other direction.

"Come along, laddie." Spoke Billy Collins in an uplifting tone.

"You're late." Added Casey Malick dryly.

"You also never went home last night. That made it a little harder to find you." Of course, Michael Dorset would know where he was at all times. Vaguely, he wondered if their leader kept tabs on all of them as closely as he did Rick or if Rick just got that privilege because he was the new guy.

The new member of their team squirmed until he managed to get himself free of Billy's grasp and turned around so he could walk properly. "Sorry I—wait. No I'm not. How would you know—?" But Casey cut him off abruptly.

"Haven't we already had this talk, Martinez? This is the CIA. It's what we do."

"Wh—I don't know where the three of you are twenty-four seven. _I_ happen to respect your privacy." The young spy countered, getting a little ruffled.

"And that's what makes _us_ the best and _you_ the new guy." Malick shot back, killing any further argument from Rick, making him stare disbelievingly, mouth slightly agape.

"Don' worry." The Scot clapped him on the shoulder affectionately with a winning smile. "You'll ge' used to i'." Billy winked just before they rounded another corner. And it was at that point that Rick realized he had no idea where they were going or what exactly was going on.

"Hey, where're we going, anyway?" He let the first subject drop, but Michael was quick to respond.

"You were late." He reiterated Casey's earlier statement. "We've got a mission and permission to leave immediately. Time is of the essence. We'll explain on the way." Mike slapped a folder against Martinez's chest. The dark haired man stumbled a bit, trying to grab at the folder without spilling his coffee or dropping the other folders in his hand.

OoOoO

They were now packed and ready to go, heading down the halls of the building to rendezvous with their transport when Michael began explaining to Martinez's right. "Radim Moravec escaped from his holding cell sixteen days ago. The Feds have been all over it for the past two weeks but as it turns out, one of our contacts spotted him outside the country."

"Which means he's out of the hands of the Feds and into ours. More or less." Casey informed from his left.

"On that note, we've dealt with him before. This was a closed case that's opened back up. We almost had him the last time until he pulled a fast one on us and wound up back in the states. Made it difficult for us to continue our mission when the local authorities were alerted in an attempt to round him up at the airport. And, as you know, the CIA is not authorized to operate within our own borders."

Casey picked up again where Michael left off, "Some obnoxious brat actually got lucky and turned him in when he saw him meeting with a known felon."

"In other words," Michael picked up again, "some kid stole our imaginary thunder with a five minute phone call to the cops. We'd dedicated months to carefully tailing this guy and keeping tight surveillance on him to have some nobody who was in the right place at the right time show us up." To any onlookers, Martinez likely looked as if he were watching a tennis match as they alternated speaking on either side of him.

"I thought you said it wasn't about the glory." Martinez queried.

"I's no'. Bu' we do have our pride!" Billy chimed in, almost startling Rick, who nearly forgot he was there. "When you spend months trackin' someone an' ge' soooo close t' nettin' him that you can nearly taste his aftershave, i' tends t' pu' a wee bi' of a damper on your mood t' see someone with no trainin' whatsoever take down your targe'."

"Speaking of tasting aftershave, Billy, you're going to have to lay low in this one." Michael spoke smoothly, not a hint of regret or sympathy in his tone for telling his teammate that he'd have to virtually just watch as they did all the work.

"Aye, I know…" Billy noted the quizzical look from the newest member of their team and smiled brightly. "Y'see, I was in contac' with our good friend Radim for the duration of our mission."

"That is, until the foreign operative we were working with turned Billy in as a spy." Casey added in his usual dry tone. "You were lucky he didn't shoot you on the spot."

"I like t' think my rugged good looks an' dazzling charm were t' thank for that." That earned Billy an eye-roll from Casey and a smirk from Michael.

"Radim Moravec is an arms dealer. He sells weapons to anyone willing to point them at his enemies. We were close to shutting him down before Billy was exposed and Moravec fled." Michael continued.

"Why ge' your hands dir'y when you can have someone do i' for you and pay you in the process." The Scot sounded far too chipper for the content of the sentence.

"Even if they fail, you still end up with a wad of cash. It's a win-win situation." Casey added.

Martinez shook his head, a look of disbelief etched into his features. "Ok, so wait. If your cover was blown last time, what makes you think this'll work again?"

"Billy was the face of a larger group of terrorists. One _Mikhail Dratshev_ happens to be the head of the organization."

"Played by our very own Michael Dorse'." Billy grinned, patting Michael on the shoulder.

"Why don't we just let the local authorities take care of him? He's an escaped convict, right? So he's on someone's most wanted list. They'll bring him in." Rick rationalized as they stopped at a sealed door.

"Because, even while he was in jail, his business was still in operation. He doesn't need to be there to sell weapons to terrorist groups. Until we catch him with hard evidence selling guns to known terrorists, we can't shut his operation down. He was our only lead to the organization, but that kid at the airport shut down our operation for two years." Michael slid his badge over the magnetic reader and the door beeped, opening. He pushed the door open for himself and his team, picked up the mission details and continued right back out.

Rick nodded, absorbing all the information that had been thrown at him. He understood, now, why they had been so hostile towards the guy who turned Radim in. It wasn't out of pride like Billy led him to believe, it was out of a sense of duty. That kid effectively put the man into a sort of protective custody and put his business back under CIA radar. But one thing he didn't understand was how they managed to arrest Radim without shutting down his business, unless his arrest was completely unrelated to his work.

OoOoO

The flight to Liège, Belgium wasn't bad. Rick had slept through most of it, until Michael woke him up for a quick briefing about what their objectives would be. Billy and Rick were ordered to stay back and lay low. Surveillance and backup would be their key focus while Michael and Casey would pose as terrorist leader and bodyguard respectively. Rick wasn't fond of sitting back and doing nothing, but he noted that Billy seemed relatively relaxed about the idea. He relived the meeting in his head several times, dwelling on that fact. That, and when he'd opened the folder, he had recognized the face of their target. Radim Moravec. He recognized that face and realization dawned on him.

Back then, there had been a known murder and gang leader waiting in the airport. How ironic that such a man would just be hanging out at a place so full of security. He found it equally disquieting that with all of that security, he'd been the only one to recognize that man. The first thing he did was phone the police and tailed the man until the cops arrived. The felon met up with someone who had recently landed. They were speaking Czech, but Rick didn't catch what they'd been saying. He was more focused on trying not to lose them and hoping the police got there on time before something happened. In the end, both men were arrested. Two dangerous gang members were put away and all was well in the world. Or at least, that's what he thought back then. That was two years ago. He had no way of knowing he had been tampering with a delicate CIA mission, or that he'd be helping Radim by putting him away.

Right now, he was sitting in a hotel room with Billy, both wearing headphones while they sat in front of respective computers, analyzing and listening. Both Michael and Casey were wearing a wire and earwig for the time being. Their contact had arranged a meeting with a member of Radim's gang to order a large shipment of weapons. Billy had explained that standard procedure for Radim was to have someone meet and judge the client to compare his motives with Radim's. If they matched up, the deal would commence. If not… they would be fishing Michael and Casey's bodies out of a ditch somewhere. Billy had done this once before, so their chances of getting in were pretty good. They knew exactly how to answer the questions provided and how to persuade the man that they were on his side.

For now, it seemed things were going smoothly so Rick wasn't too worried. Billy had said that this wasn't really the part they needed to worry about, since it'd been done before and Michael was a smart cookie. So, Rick covered his microphone with one hand and pushed one side of his headphones away from his ear.

"How'd you escape?" Martinez asked, breaking the silence between them.

The Scotsman's clear blue eyes flicked up from the screen to lock with Martinez's deep chocolate eyes. Rick could see something calculating in those eyes. Weighing his options, picking his words carefully. From this, Rick could tell Billy knew exactly what he was referring, but The Charmer had always been rather tight-lipped when it came to his past. He was expecting a carefully diluted story that would consist of a long drawn out speech and no actual information whatsoever. Or maybe one of those irrelevant stories that seemed like it should have some moral in the end given the way it was presented with such conviction and flair, but ending up, instead, to be completely unrelated to the current situation.

Instead, all he received from the brunette was a disgruntled, "What?" This was slightly less frustrating than the other dodging the subject entirely with colorful words.

"When the foreign operative disclosed your CIA status. Casey said you were lucky he didn't shoot you. How'd you escape?" Rick clarified, pointedly pushing one of Billy's headphones to the side as well to clear up any miscommunication.

Billy just flashed him a coy grin and put his headphones back on. "Head in th' game, Martinez."

The hotel was supposed to be secure. They were staying under aliases. They were very careful to make sure nothing traced back to the CIA but it wasn't enough. It was something they wouldn't realize until after the bomb went off.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Ok, this was only beta'ed by me. I've read over it a few times, but I have a tendency to auto-correct things in my head when I read. As is the same with everything I write. This is where the plot gets farfetched. Apologies. I was gonna rewrite it and change it to be less… full of holes? But I'm too tired. So I just proofed it instead. Thank you for the comments so far! 3**

When he opened his eyes all he saw was blood. Blood everywhere. Sounds of chaos. People screaming. Sirens blaring. Fire blazing. He tried to move but found he couldn't sit up. Why was that? His eyes focused and he realized he was pinned under a huge bulkhead.

"Sodding—"

It was suddenly as if his body was slowly waking up in stages. First his awareness, then his sight, followed by smell, lastly his ability to feel. His entire body was wracked with pain. He found it difficult to breathe, and not only because he was pinned under a bulkhead. It was then that he realized where all of the blood came from. It was his. Well, most of it.

Off to his right, he realized Rick was lying flat on the ground. He could see snippets of blood staining the white collared shirt of his under his suit. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was the only sign the Scot had that his partner was still alive.

"Laddie—" Billy croaked out then cleared his throat and tried again. "Rick!" He paused, but the kid didn't stir. "Martinez! C'mon, ge' up. Rick! Scorpion!" The Super-Secret code name was used as a joke, and obviously didn't rouse the kid anyway. Billy groaned and mustered up all the strength he had to push against the bulkhead pinning him to the ground. With a cry of pain, he managed to lift it high enough to drag himself out from under it. It felt like it required more effort than he had left in his body, but somehow, he managed to do it, rolling to the side with a groan. His world was spinning with grey edges that threatened to engulf the whole of his vision if he didn't fight for his consciousness.

Billy pushed himself up onto his hands and crawled to Rick's side, checking his pulse and examining his injuries. He had a nasty gash in his forehead with dark bruising radiating outward under the blood. It was a possible, if not definite concussion. He took a moment to assess his own injuries. Head trauma, but he could think clearly, so he doubted he had a concussion. Breathing was painful, so several broken or fractured ribs. Ankle pain as well as possible damage to one knee and one wrist.

He glanced around the room and noted that the surveillance equipment was out of commission, of course, but with the building burning down around them, he needed to collect it and anything else that would link them to the CIA before they fled. Leaving any piece of evidence that there had been US spies in a foreign country, in a hotel that just so happened to explode, wouldn't look very good on their record. Billy hefted the pack onto his shoulder with a wince. It wasn't too heavy, but the action hadn't been very comfortable. Then he returned to Martinez's side. Smoke was filling the room by now, making his already labored breathing difficult.

The Scotsman carefully slipped an arm around Rick and secured most of his upper body against his chest before dragging the younger operative out of the room and down the hall to the stairwell. He struggled down two flights of stairs with out dropping the young Puerto Rican in his arms until he found an emergency exit that put them behind the building and out of the bustle of people. Billy removed the hard drive from the laptop and deposited the ruined equipment in different public bins across the city so there wasn't a suspicious heap of electronics in one place. He was on his way back with Rick still unconscious so they could be ushered to the hospital with the rest of the survivors when he found his path blocked by three fellows dressed in dark colors with hardened features.

The man in the middle let his coat open enough to flash a gun at Billy. "Who are you? American?" The first man spoke with venom in his voice, nearly spitting the nationality out as if it were a mouth full of mud.

"No. Sorry bu' I'm on holiday here from Edinburgh an' I have t' say, after this li'le trip, I don' think I'm comin' back." Billy replied critically, with a frown. "Could you lads give me a hand here? I've go' t' ge' him t' a doctor." Billy knew out right that he couldn't trust these three men. They had Evil Bastards written all over them.

"You were in the hotel when the bomb went off." The man began, eyes narrowed. "How'd you end up all the way out here?"

So, he learned one thing from that sentence: these men planted the explosive. They knew it was a bomb. They didn't speculate, they stated out right. These things always start out as a gas leak or kitchen fire that reached dangerous materials until there is irrefutable proof of a bomb so as to keep public panic at a minimum.

"Go' turned around lookin' for my car." Billy replied dryly, knowing they weren't going to buy it. They were already set on believing whatever they had in their heads right now and nothing Billy said would change that. He heard movement behind him but didn't get the chance to turn around.

"It's them." Spoke a disembodied voice.

"Oh bugger—" Pain exploded in Billy's skull and he went down like a bag of bricks.

OoOoO

The bombing was already all over the news, both local and national. Michael called in a few favors and got the updated patient list of the hospitals looking for Billy or Rick's aliases. For all of the string-pulling that took, it proved ineffectual. Casey was keeping a careful eye on the body count that just kept going up, but he hadn't seen any sign of Billy or Rick there either. It wasn't until Michael's cell rang that he learned anything.

"I found something." It was Casey on the other end. "There's charred remains of our surveillance equipment scattered in dumpsters across town. Either they made it out, or someone's trying to cover it up."

"I'm going to go with the former for now. Get back—"

"Wait." Casey interrupted Michael.

The blonde shifted with irritation and impatience while he waited for Casey to inspect whatever he found. Rounding on five minutes, he was about to demand some kind of update when Casey finally spoke up again.

"There's blood on the pavement here, but I found Collins' cell." There was another pause. "I'm heading back to you. You need to see this." Was all he said before hanging up.

OoOoO

Michael made sure the rental car was secure before Casey leaned over and showed him Billy's phone. "It was on record when I found it. Memory was full. So I saved the file and replayed it." He said and pressed play. They couldn't see much but feet and obscure angles, but they could hear voices, clean and clear as the scene unfolded. They heard a female voice confirm the identities of Collins and Martinez before the phone hit the ground and skittered into the shadows.

Michael looked up at Casey, expression grim. "That was our asset."

"It was." Casey agreed.

"If they knew, why did our end of the deal go so smoothly? It doesn't make any sense why they'd continue to play along with our charade if they knew it was a trap from the beginning."

"Unless we weren't the only ones setting a trap." Casey suggested.

"You think they want revenge? For what? Collins didn't do any more than the rest of us. Why would they just take him when they could have taken all of us?" The master strategist couldn't make heads or tails of the motive. It was ridiculous and sloppy. Sloppy wasn't Radim's style. One doesn't survive this long in a business like this by being sloppy.

"Are you feeling left out of the kidnapping party?" Casey inquired with a hint of sarcasm. "Maybe Moravec blames Collins for chasing him right into a prison cell. Maybe he feels like Collins is a loose end that should have been tied up. Cleaning up a mess that's been festering for a few years. Hell, maybe by some stroke of luck he doesn't even know we're tied together. I'm sure all of his former mutual gains clients hit him up when they heard he was out. Right now, I'm not worried about the why. I'm more concerned with tracking Martinez's phone before someone realizes and dumps it."

That jarred Michael out of his momentary lapse. Still, something felt out of place, but Casey was right. They were on a time constraint. He swiftly fished out his own cell phone and dialed Fay. It only rang twice; she was always quick to answer when he was on a mission, yet never return his calls when they were in the states.

"Fay, I need a favor. Our equipment's fried. Can you get a trace on Rick's mobile?" They hadn't been in dire need to disappear so Michael hadn't swapped out their sim cards and right about now, he was glad he hadn't.

"_Uh, yeah. Hang on." _

OoOoO

Billy groaned. He was lying flat on his back when he came to. He blinked against the dim lights, trying to lift his hand to rub his eyes when he found them bound. Well, that shouldn't have been much of a shocker. He was a prisoner, after all. But that didn't make it any less painful given the current condition of his body. With some struggling and a few washes of debilitating pain, he managed to worm himself into a sitting position, looking around the room. He saw Rick sitting across from him, propped against a wall with his knees against his chest, watching him.

"You know, every time I get stuck staying behind—out of the action—I end up in trouble." Rick's voice sounded sharp in the silence, but it wasn't intentional. He was tense and slightly aggravated. Dizzy and nauseas, but he wouldn't admit to either.

"Comes with th' territory, lad." Billy replied lightly and tried to roll his shoulders. "What'd I miss?"

"Not much."

"Good, good. Now, trust me on this one, le' me do the talkin'. If, for some reason, you feel compelled t' speak, don'. You go' that?" The Scotsman's stern blue eyes pinned Rick with a stare that felt authoritative, despite the man's completely harmless state at the moment.

And despite it all, he couldn't hold his tongue right now. "What, so now I'm a liability?" He barked, looking indignant. "Just how long am I gonna be the new guy, huh? Oh, can't trust the new guy not to screw up the mission! How many times do I have to prove myself to you?"

"Look, Martinez—Rick. Michael's head is so full of information, tha' a li'le detail from several years ago is lost and buried under a menagerie of new information that currently seems more relevant. And Casey just doesn' focus on the tiny details like a name of a nobody in a repor' from two years ago. If you're followin' me so far, then keep your mouth shu'."

"Wait, how did you—" But the door opened across the room from the two of them and Rick fell silent. A man flanked by three heavily armed men stepped into the room. His hair was a light brown, but you couldn't tell that through the thick mass of hair gel coating it back. He was working on a short beard to define his face. Really, Rick mused, he looked like any other man on the street with a forgettable face.

"Well, if i' isn't my good old friend Radim Moravec. How's prison life treatin' ya?" Billy greeted with a grin, but to his dismay, he found himself completely disregarded.

The man squared off in front of Rick, looking him over carefully. His hazel eyes narrowed, scanning Rick's features, as if searching his memory to match them up. He was being scrutinized by the Czech and he knew it. The man stepped closer, drawing a gun and aiming it at the young operative's forehead. Those cold eyes were looking deep into Rick's for any signs of fear, or maybe an answer, but all he received was a stubborn glare in return. The gun was cocked and Billy finally jumped into action, needing to draw that gun away from his partner.

"Leave th' new guy alone, he wasn' even par' of the operation that got you locked up." Billy started to struggle to his feet only to be shoved back to the ground by two of the body guards. "Moravec!" When the man seemed to angle his head, indicating Billy had his attention, the Scot continued in a dark, silken voice. "Did you forge' how she pined for me? We had a wee bi' of a trys' behind your back. She was good. Quie'. I can still taste her lips." No sooner did the words leave his mouth, he was backhanded, lying flat again, but it had done the job well. Directing Moravec's anger back towards Billy and away from Rick. The gun was aimed harmlessly away for now. But the reprieve didn't last long.

"It was you." Radim was speaking to Rick. His voice held a mild Czechoslovakian accent, diminished over time in other countries speaking other languages. When the dark haired operative didn't answer, the man grew annoyed. "You turned me in! Answer me!" Rick set his jaw, waiting to be struck. In some twisted way, this felt like a personal gain. His first interrogation. Not that he was looking forward to the torture, he was just morbidly curious if he could hold up like a good spy until backup came. What he wasn't expecting, was for Moravec to whirl around and fire a shot into Billy's right shoulder. By the Scot's reaction, he wasn't expecting it either.

Billy yelped, face contorting in pain, but he refused to let any other sound escape aside from his heavy breathing as he managed the assault to his nerves. His shoulders hunched, curling into somewhat of a ball, as if it would help. He just focused on breathing. In and out. Don't stop. Just breathe.

Rick's eyes were wide. That puppy-dog innocence returning in full as he stared dumbly past Radim to Billy's shaking form. That wasn't how this worked. He refused to answer, so the man was supposed to hit him, not shoot Billy. This was all wrong!

"It is well known that threatening ones own life is less effective than threatening that of a friend. I will ask again: it was you, was it not?" Radim spoke calmly.

"Sod off!" Billy forced out through gritted teeth, but was ignored. Moravec was more interested in Rick at the moment. The Scot could be dealt with later.

Rick didn't see any way out of this that ended with a favorable outcome. This was where the ODS thrived; in impossible situations. Situations that only the ODS could get themselves out of because they were slightly insane. They did the unexpected and improvised in ways that no person in their right mind would even dream of. He was a member of this team and it was high time he started acting like it. He'd never drop the title of 'new guy' if he didn't. So, rather than looking at the logical statistics of how screwed he was, he shut down his inhibitions and let his training with the ODS take over.

"Tell me something," Rick began, his features stern, eyes focused. All pretenses of innocence and naïveté were gone. "what did you think to accomplish by fleeing to the US after you found a spy in your midst? Huh? Did you really think you'd be safe if you took a vacation to the homeland of your enemy?" Carefully, Rick recalled the conversation he heard between the two men. Something he'd never paid attention to before, quickly translating it in his head. He'd barely been able to hear it and hadn't cared back then. Now it would be his saving grace. "Remember that message you got telling you when and where to meet at the airport? Ortega was my lackey. Yeah, that's right."

Across the room, Billy was careful to conceal his impressed stare through the waves of nauseating pain. He kept his expression guarded but deliberately leaked a betrayed, dejected glare in Martinez's direction. Moravec wasn't sure whether to buy it or not. He looked dubious, but sent a glance in Billy's direction, and his disbelief and betrayal seemed to begin selling it.

"You needed to lay low for a while and what better way to take you off the radar than to keep you penned up right under their noses? I made sure you were charged with minor offences that had nothing to do with your actual dealings so your business could continue. There wasn't time to relay the details to you. My boys were watching him while he was watching you." He nodded to Billy. "After this little… incident, I lost faith in my guys and decided to do this myself."

"You… are trying to tell me that a little _punk_ like you runs a crime syndicate?"

He realized then that this didn't sound very believable at all… he hadn't thought the details through well enough. Mild panic flashed through his eyes for a beat of a moment, then things seemed to fall apart around him in a big bustling explosion of movement that made him dizzy. He found himself knocked to the ground, head bouncing off the floor before things went black.

**TBC**


End file.
